


King of Hearts

by Thornvale



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Decisions, Betrayal, Break Up, Comedy, Depression, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, F/M, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Leaving Home, Self-Esteem Issues, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornvale/pseuds/Thornvale
Summary: A sudden break-up with Arabella sends Diaval into crisis mode.Who is he in the lives of those he loves? Will he ever find true love for himself?Maybe the only way forwards is to go and find the answers for himself, away from the Moors.Away from Maleficent.
Relationships: Diaval/Arabella, Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	King of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just wanted to say here that I have never read the Mistress of Evil novelisation and so have no idea how Arabella is described as a human, or even if she has any dialogue. So I made her a character of my own just for this fic. 
> 
> This was originally meant to be a one-shot but, as usual, I waffled on in my brain to the point of forming a short story, partially to take a break from the Beyond the Black Veil series. Hope you enjoy!

It was eight months following Aurora’s wedding to Phillip and the unification of their two kingdoms, and things were good.

There were no squabbles between the Moorfolk and the humans. In fact, things were better than ever with their usually turbulent relations, for both kingdoms returned to peace and discovered that, indeed, working together instead of fighting was the answer to many former problems. The Moors aided Ulstead in the affairs of magic and in growing healthy crops, and in return, Ulstead opened their markets and libraries to all fairy-kind. 

Aurora and Phillip were marvellously happy. So were the Dark Fae, who were now free to leave their ancestral island and make homes all across the land. Many of the forest fae now resided in the woods of the Moors, which meant that Maleficent could both be among her people and resume her prestigious role as Guardian of the Moors. 

Diaval didn’t see much of Maleficent, now. 

A lot had changed for him, too. Whether for better or for worse was yet impossible to fathom. 

He was happy enough - for those eight months, at least. After Aurora’s wedding, fuelled by a sudden surge of bravado following the battle and his impressive foray into bearhood, he had made a passing comment to Maleficent. An advance, if you will, not necessarily with romantic intentions, though he certainly would not have complained if things evolved such a way. It seemed only right that as Aurora and Phillip took the next step in their relationship, perhaps Maleficent and Diaval could take the next step in theirs.

He had merely made the suggestion that they should wander the meadows as bears. In response, Maleficent flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture, and transformed the castle cat - the  _ cat!  _ \- into a woman. 

An attractive woman, admittedly. Diaval may not have been human at his core, and certainly had an instinctive dislike for anything remotely feline, but he did have an appreciation for the beautiful. To this day, he still thought Maleficent was the most beautiful creature alive, and she was a faerie! And so he did bear an appreciation for the beautiful woman that she created, too, and he was so distracted by the emergence of somebody that was like  _ him _ that he didn’t really stop to think what it meant. 

Arabella was a wild beauty. Her tangle of brown hair fell all the way to the backs of her knees. She was small, lithe, and boasted pretty freckles just about everywhere. Her eyes were yellow and they burned with mischief, complimented by her crooked, fanged grin. Now that her cat instincts and thoughts were calmed somewhat by the presence of a more human conscience, she did not (often) try to attack and eat Diaval, which meant they could hold hands and try to make sense of personhood together.

And things were good. For a while, anyway.

In that while, they became inseparable. They liked each other enough that they were given their own quarters in Ulstead’s castle by King John, who seemed to take great personal amusement in the pair’s mischievous escapades. Things swiftly turned romantic after that. They were, after all, the only creatures alive that were like, well …  _ them _ . They understood each other in that sense. And so, they spent much of their time causing havoc around the castle and the town in pursuit of fun.

Diaval visited the Moors every now and then. Aurora, who he saw as his very own fledgeling, was of course its queen, and he would always be her servant and confidant when she needed it. She was so busy these days, it felt as though he could barely ever talk to her for more than five minutes at a time, but it seemed she had ideas of a family of her own and was still working on changes across the Moors in wake of its union with Ulstead. 

And Maleficent was hardly ever present, either. They were two ships in the night, passing silently by each other. It felt strange, of course; it was the longest he had ever been away from her, and he did miss her dreadfully, those age-old pangs and aches in his heart plaguing him whenever his thoughts drifted to her. Whenever he turned to ask her how she was, she had already flown away.

Diaval would always return to Ulstead mired in his own thoughts. As time passed, he dwelt on them for longer and longer, until he would lie awake at night with a furrowed brow, wondering if his family were sleeping well and if they were happy. He would turn to look at Arabella, always curled up beside him with her hands tucked in to her chest, and he wondered whether she was happy, too. 

Sometimes, he had his doubts.

Those eight months passed. Things were no longer good.

It had been just long enough for him to consider where he was and what he was doing. Arabella had barely said a word to him for at least a week, let alone kissed him like she always did upon seeing him. The bad feeling that he did not quite understand, the one that was slowly growing in his gut like a particularly grouchy stomach ache, was at its worst. Something was always niggling in the back of his mind, too, like a cluster of moths at a flame. Whenever he reached out to try to understand any one of these moths, they darted away back into the shadows.

When he woke up one morning, Arabella was gone.

He told himself she had just gone for breakfast, but he knew in his heart that it was a lie. Arabella ate whenever she wanted. She would sleep in for hours at a time, and Diaval would usually entertain himself by watching her dream or by balancing things on her face until she woke up. That she was nowhere to be found so early worried him to no end, and he continued to worry as he dressed, as he ventured through the sleepy labyrinth of the castle halls in search of her. Eventually, he ventured outside into the gardens, which glittered with frost and snow in the morning light.

“Excuse me - have you seen Arabella?” He asked the guards at the grand gates.

The two men glanced at each other, likely suspecting a trick. It was not unfounded - more than once, Diaval had distracted them with talk, and then Arabella would pounce on them from behind.

“Saw her go into town about half an hour ago. She was heading off in a wagon. I doubt she could have been doing anything as useful as fetching supplies, eh?”

“Not a chance,” the other guard grumbled. 

Shooting off, Diaval ran into the cobbled streets of Ulstead and headed for the market, which was only just waking up for the day. None of the stalls were even open yet. As dread seeped into his chest, he jogged up and down the central streets, and when he did not find her, headed as quickly as he could out of the southernmost gate. The road there seemed the most obvious, for it led to a crossroads somewhere near Perceforest that would see any traveller to any kingdom they wanted to go.

There, in the distance, a wagon rumbled steadily away.

Desperation clawed at him. Though already out of breath, he broke straight into a run and got close enough to see a familiar wild head of hair billowing back in the Winter wind.

“Arabella!” He had to stop. Bending over, Diaval tried to catch his breath.

Ahead, he heard a short yell, and the horse pulling the wagon drew to a swift stop.

“Aw, come on, this is early, even for you!” Arabella called back. “Come on, then! Catch up, songbird!”

Dragging his suddenly limp legs forwards, Diaval eventually reached the side of the wagon and let the woman pull him into it via the hood of his cloak. Stretched across her feet, he stared up at her with reproach, wheezing.

“Where … where are you goin’?” He just about managed. Finding the strength to lift himself up, he sat next to her and gazed about the wilderness, trying to find an answer to his own question. There was nothing there. Nothing but trees and road, and Ulstead behind them.

Arabella pursed her dry lips, apparently trying to think of a suitable enough answer. With a quick flick of the reins in her claws, the horse resumed its steady trot.

“I’m going to some other place. I’m not sure where yet, but I’m going. The more time I spend as a human, the more I realise that there’s a huge world outside of Ulstead, ya know?”

“I understand, but you really weren’t gonna say goodbye?”

Wounded, Diaval turned back to her. He could hear the meaning behind her words loud and clear: it wasn’t just Ulstead that she was leaving. It was him. There was a whole world outside of him, too. Though he had suspected things were going to go awry, he definitely had not expected things to go  _ this _ way. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Arabella responded accusingly, pouting. “You know I can’t resist those big ol’ eyes of yours! Look, Diaval, it’s been fun, but stuff wasn’t gonna stay that way forever, was it? I have to go.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not gonna be a pet anymore. That’s what we are to the humans, right? We’re something for them to fawn over and giggle at, no matter how much we might look like ‘em. I’m a person and I’m gonna go make the most of it.”

“I do understand,” Diaval insisted, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. “Did  _ I _ do somethin’ wrong?”

“No.” Arabella sighed again, fixing her golden gaze on the approaching crossroads. “I don’t think so. It’s just … Well, think about it. I was created  _ for _ you. I was made into this to be your … I don’t know. Playmate? I was made beautiful for your eyes. For  _ you _ to enjoy. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

Stunned, Diaval considered that. He had, of course, thought to himself about the nature of Arabella’s transformation as of late, though had not allowed himself to come to any reasonable conclusions. Much to his dismay, he had mostly overlooked what such a thing had meant to Arabella, and as he thought on it, a rising guilt moved in to house with the dread roiling about his chest. 

Now he knew why she was leaving, he could hardly blame her. It was, after all, something that he could understand for the most part.

“I’m sorry,” he offered sincerely. “I mean - not that you were created, but for the reasons behind it.”

“It’s not your fault, you know. You should be angry, too!”

“I should?” Diaval asked, brow creasing.

“Yes! C’mon, I thought ravens were supposed to be smart! You told me she created me ‘cause you asked her if she wanted to spend an evening together, right? I get it. You spent a long, long time together. You even raised a chick together. I would go as far to say you might even be in  _ love _ with her, songbird. But what does she do?” She continued loudly before Diaval could interrupt with protest. “She made me so that she could get you out of her hair. And it worked, didn’t it? When was the last time she spoke to you?”

Every word was like a punch to the stomach. 

Diaval felt sick. The blood drained from his face and turned cold in his veins. 

Of course he loved Maleficent. He loved Aurora, too, though it was a different sort of feeling. What he felt for Aurora was a very strong affection and pride. An intense protectiveness, too. Those were simple enough sensations to understand for the likes of him, who had never really had the opportunity to stop and consider how  _ he _ really felt about a situation. His feelings for Maleficent, however, while similarly intense, swirled with strong and very confusing thoughts and feelings that it was difficult for him to come to grips with. What he knew was that he was loyal to her, and that he would serve her until the day she decided she didn’t need him.

What if that day had already come and passed?

It would explain her possible avoidance of him. Now that Aurora was grown up and happy, and now that the forest fae were home and there was nothing left to threaten them, what need did Maleficent have for a servant? What need did she have of him, who had made an uninvited advance on her despite her being surrounded by people of her own kind? People that were like her, fast and strong and beautiful and  _ powerful _ . People with wings big enough to keep up with her.

He couldn’t give Maleficent any of that. 

His thinly veiled offer of a different sort of companionship must have seemed foolish. Infantile, even, in his lack of understanding what his request to her might have meant. Her solution was to create another person like him to distract him away from his love, and he had been idiotic and romantic enough to go along with it.

At least Arabella had been smart enough - nay,  _ brave _ enough - to see the situation for what it really was.

It had been fun, but it was time for it all to end. Arabella had every right to go and find a life of her own, for she, just like anybody else, had a right to freedom and happiness.

He hadn’t been able to give her that, either.

With no words left to say, Diaval remained silent. He felt so disgustingly foolish and very much alone. As the weight of the truth set in, it was an agonising pressure on his chest that felt as though it might split his rib cage and heart in twain for all the sudden pain it caused.

“I’m sorry I left without saying anything, alright?” Arabella continued brightly, apparently blind to the impact of her words. “I just thought - Well, I’m not the one you’re really in love with. Maybe it would be a wake up call. Literally! But … ya know, if you wanted, you  _ could _ come with me.” She paused to look at him, suggestion gleaming in her wide eyes. “We’re the only two of our kind, so maybe we should stick together. Explore new lands somewhere out there!”

They had reached the crossroads. Arabella stopped the horse and waited for an answer, her foot tapping impatiently on the creaky wood beneath her feet. 

It was not a good moment for Diaval to be faced with such an enormous decision. A small facet of the idea was tempting, though mostly for the prospect of guaranteed companionship in a time of painful realisations and doubt. While his intrigue was somewhat piqued by the notion of seeing unfamiliar lands, he knew that it would be impossible to leave without even saying goodbye to the people that he loved.

“I can’t, I … Aurora.” He managed, his heart twisting as he thought of her. “I can’t just leave!”

“But you could. One day, anyway, if not now. You’ve been capable of higher thought for over twenty years and you still can’t see you’re better than the situation you’re in. Sheesh, songbird. Maybe it’s the cat in me talking, but sometimes you need to live life on your own terms, right?” Arabella rolled her eyes dramatically at that, as though it had somehow been obvious all along. Reaching down, she patted his hand. “You just want to be loved, Diaval. Or to feel worthy of it. You’re further along in this whole human thing than I am. I just want to be out  _ there _ . If you want to try and find me, songbird, I’ll be heading south past Perceforest. Now, out you get! I’ve got places to be!”

With that, Diaval found himself being pawed at. He unwound Arabella’s claws from his cloak and vacated the wagon. Numb to the bone, he stood there and watched as she flicked the reins again and set off on the southernmost road. As she went, she blew him a kiss, then laughed with true delight as she turned her back on Ulstead and made for whatever adventures awaited.

It was cold. Freezing, in fact. The occasional snowflake spiralled down from the heavens to disappear into the small mounds of snow piled on the edges of the road. 

Diaval wrapped his arms around himself and watched, agonised, as the shape of Arabella became smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing into the vast forests beyond. Stood there alone, he suddenly felt strangely lost - not that he had known for a long time where his life was heading, but now it was all even less clear. The paths around him were no more inviting than the one behind him, but the most familiar of them felt the easiest to tread.

So back he went, trudging to the castle that did not feel as much as home as it did a playpen that he had outgrown.

The painful weight on his chest was numbed to a plain pressure by the time he got there. He could not allow himself to really feel anything if he was to take whatever steps were necessary now. It didn’t feel right to linger in Ulstead without any real reason to - and Arabella was right, he didn’t want to be a castle pet any more than he wanted to be human in that moment, but he didn’t have much choice in the latter. 

Rubbing some warmth back into his hands, he forced a cheery, nonchalant expression back onto his face when he saw the king approaching in the halls. 

King John was a good man. A kind man, too, which made him a sort of rare sort in Diaval’s eyes. As two fathers, they were kindred spirits in the difficulties they had faced bringing children up in a world of turmoil. Similarly, John had suffered a vicious blow in wake of losing somebody that he had once cared about very much.

“Oh, good morning!” John greeted, approaching with a kind smile. “You’re up early!”

“Yes, uh …” Diaval rasped, still smiling, though it was starting to become painful. “Good mornin’, Majesty. I was just seein’ off Arabella, actually.”

“Oh?” John tilted his head. “Where’s she off to? Talking a merchant out of keeping his jewels, no doubt.”

There had certainly been a time when that had happened, though the merchant had made a foolish pass on Arabella, and the aforementioned jewels were not the sort John seemed to be thinking of.

“She’s gone to find an adventure, I think. As in, she isn’t coming back. You know what house cats are like, sometimes they can be gone for a day, sometimes they find greener pastures and don’t come back at all. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality while we’ve been here.” Diaval respectfully inclined his head. “It was very kind. I think I’ll be goin’ home to the Moors, now.”

John’s mouth fell open in surprise, and then a sincere sympathy arose in his warm eyes.

“Oh! My dear, I’m sorry to hear that! Goodness. Well, she  _ was _ Ingrith’s cat, but I’m sorry to see her go. Oh, to be young again and off exploring the world! I hope that you shall return shortly, my friend, but no doubt Aurora will be overjoyed to see you. Do you need an escort back to the Moors?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I know the way there and back as well as the back of my hand, I think.”

“Hm, yes, I suppose.” John eyed him closely a moment longer, reading him as well as a particularly interesting passage of a book. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Diaval said, still smiling. Perhaps by that point it might have appeared something more of a grimace. “Yes, always. Eager to see my little one again - even if she is not so little anymore. Terrible how quickly they grow up, isn’t it? I swear the time’s just flown by!”

“Well, yes, but -“

“Oh, I can’t stop, anyway. Mornings are a good time for birds ‘cause there’s lots of juicy bugs flyin’ around. If I leave now, I might make it in time to gobble up the best of ‘em.”

It was awful. He could feel his throat closing in on itself as he talked, to the point he barely had any voice at all by the end of it. 

Arabella was gone. She was really, actually gone. 

Behind her, she had left a quieter world. A colder world. The best part of his day was always waking up next to someone he cared about, and who cared about him, too. But it had never been love, had it? Not even when things had seemed at their best.

He felt about as far as finding true love for himself as he had those nights long ago, when he stood alone in a tree and wondered if any raven might take notice in his impressive aerial tricks or the shiny treasures that he found. It was strange. He hadn’t even remembered such a time in his life until now, for there was little of his time as a true raven that he could actually recall.

After a swift bow, Diaval hurried away before his voice could get any squeakier.

* * *

He left Ulstead, though did not feel it appropriate to feel sad in doing so. He had only stayed there in the first place because it was Arabella’s home. The rest of it had only served as unpleasant reminders of a war and many lost lives - which had almost included Maleficent, if not for her Phoenix power bringing her back. It was with an odd sense of relief that he left the kingdom behind, a relief that might have cheered him up somewhat if he were not so increasingly lost in wake of Arabella’s sudden departure.

Blindly following trails in the tall grass of Ulstead’s meadows, he soon crossed the new bridge that joined the kingdoms and entered the Moors. Thankfully it wasn’t too much of a walk to the north, where Aurora’s castle sat betwixt two winding rivers and the Forests of Dreams and Waking. He made it to the open castle by midday, albeit with aching legs and the expression of one that had recently been punched square in the nose.

However, he brightened up soon as he saw Aurora sat there on her wooden throne.

The poor thing was dealing with the biggest queue of fairies that he had ever seen in his life. The line was winding around the grassy hill the castle sat upon. Many of the fairies were bickering between each other, as was common, and the closer he came to Aurora, the more he could see just how stressed she was. Diaval disappeared into the castle walls and manoeuvred between them, creeping up to the side of the throne and waiting for her to finish dealing with the squabbling pixies currently taking her attention.

“Need a hand?” He offered.

Aurora jumped and span in her seat. With a delighted squeal, she leapt up and pulled him into a tight hug, much to the evident annoyance of the entire queue waiting to have their issues addressed.

“Oh, Diaval! I have no idea what’s gotten into them all! Some of them aren’t getting along with the Dark Fae, but the Moors is a home to everyone. I’ve spent all day telling them to compromise on just about every matter you could possibly think of!”

“You’ll be here until next week with this lot,” Diaval advised, nodding towards the line of fairies glaring at him about the court. Reluctantly, he released Aurora and peered down at her with a small, grateful smile. 

“I know! I haven’t been able to spend time with Phillip at all lately. He is supposed to be coming for dinner, but I fear I shan’t even get five minutes in. And I have barely seen mother at all, either. Oh, I do miss them!”

The young queen appeared so downcast as she took her seat back on the throne, though she expertly wiped such a look straight from her features and squared her shoulders. Diaval watched with enormous sympathy, hating to see her so worried - and so gaunt, too. When was the last time she had eaten a proper meal? Or slept for a full night? All he had done the past eight months was mess around in a castle that wasn’t even his home. All the while, Aurora was struggling without any sort of assistance. 

“Wait,” he said quickly, halting the wallerbogs ascending the grassy dais. They made several obscene sounds through their snouts at him, but he paid them no mind, taking Aurora’s hand into his. “I’ll take over. I know the Moors well, and I’ve served as advisor to both you and your mother. I won’t take any nonsense from the fairies, I promise! Go ‘n take the day to rest and see Phillip.”

The queen gazed up at him in surprise, and then she smiled from ear to ear, her radiance beaming up at him as brightly as the Sun itself. 

“Do you mean it?” She asked, standing again to embrace him a second time. 

Enveloped in a cloud of butterflies and flowers, Diaval’s heart was, if for a moment, put at ease. Affection warmed his limbs like the touch of an old friend. It wasn’t until she had hugged him that he realised how much he’d missed her and her sweet, golden smile.

“Yes, Aurora, I -“ Surprised to find himself being turned and eased back onto the throne, he gaped up at the queen in alarm. “I didn’t - I can’t sit here!”

“You can! I trust you to look after it, Diaval.” With that wonderful smile, Aurora bound bare-footed down the dais and away. “Thank you! I’ll be back this evening!”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. Gulping, Diaval awkwardly adjusted himself upon the throne and assumed the most lordly poise that he could, staring with great concern down at the very, very long line of fairies awaiting their turn for a royal verdict. Maybe he was not as qualified to grant such a thing as he might have thought those ten seconds ago.

It had already been a long day, but it was about to get a whole lot longer.

At least he would not have the chance to think about Arabella.


End file.
